It was sophomore year and Will Berg and I were walking to our 8th period class that just so happened to be Sports for Life. We had just walked by the Little Theatre and were talking about some trivial topic when we heard a voice over the intercom. I don’t really know what Mr. Greenhill said but it was something along the lines of “the school is going into lockdown blah blah blah go to the nearest classroom immediately.”
My first thought was not to panic but rather disappointment because I really wanted to participate in an exciting game of dodgeball. I glance at Berg who glanced back
and I believe we both smiled at each other for some reason. Mr. Varner frantically beckoned to us to enter the Little Theatre. We casually strolled towards the Little Theatre not really taking the lockdown seriously. Ordinarily if the school was in a lockdown I would have been scared but I had noticed some key things that kept me calm.
First of all, Mr. Greenhill did not sound that urgent over the intercom. Secondly, I was thinking that if there was a major threat such as a guy with a gun in the school, then I feel like I would have seen more panic earlier, because I had just recently walked by the Learning Center, attendance office, and main office and I had not observ
ed anything out of the ordinary. Anyways, Bergy boy and I sat down in the little room in the Little Theatre without much of a fuss. We were not allowed to talk really but everyone was whispering and no one seemed that worried about this lockdown, even though it was not a drill.
Looking back on it I probably should have be
en more upset about what was going on, but I was just hoping that I was still going to get to leave school at 3:05. Turns out some guy robbed Graeter’s and he looked like he was heading towards the high school. I am extremely thankful that nothing worse happened, but that it was a rather, for lack of a better word, chill lockdown. This story is not that exciting or interesting but I find it to be unique in the sense that I hopefully will never have that experience again.
Easily one of my favorite memories of high school has to be the Class of 2013 parking prank on Brandon. Everyone got there so early to park his or her car. We all brought our breakfast and coffee waiting for people to show up while sitting in lawn chairs.
As the sophomores started to arrive, they had no idea what was going on and were all so confused. The seniors were jealous that us juniors had pulled off a prank and a good one, too.
Everyone knows it’s a special thing to be a part of the Class of 2013. From the student section at sporting events, senior tag, dances, and even school, it’s been great fun. We’ve become a close-knit unit over the past four years and have had a handful of memorable times together.
I know many of my classmates are going on to some pretty exciting places next year and it will be interesting to watch what becomes of the Class of 2013 in the future.
I love Speedway slushees. I love everything about them. I love how on a hot summer day the syrup drains to the bottom and you can slurp up all the goodness in one gulp. I love how you can layer the flavors to create a unique work of art (if you show Fred, the old guy, he’ll pretend to be impressed). I even love when your throat gets irritated and you have to cough when you drink one too fast. Some people go so far to say that I’m addicted (I probably am).
Naturally, one of my most memorable high school experiences involves a slushee. I went with Maddie Mischler to homecoming my senior year and immediately after we left the dance I told her “Yo Misch, we gotta make a quick run to Speedway, I need a slushee pronto”.
For some reason she was OK with that. We drove to Speedway to get the goods and everything seemed to be going swimmingly. Then, much to my dismay, I realized that I had locked my keys inside the car! I guess I was a little wiped out from the dance and a little nervous being around my date and a little too excited for my slushee.
We had to walk back to my house in the cold and then Maddie had to wait for twenty minutes while I ran back to Speedway with the other set of keys to get the car. I still feel awful and it’s probably one of the most embarrassing things that I’ve done. I think she’s still a little ticked about the whole ordeal.
I think Dickens hit the nail on the head: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness— it was high school. While many deem it the bane of existence, a cesspool of despair and monotony and sheer awkwardness, others regard it as the pinnacle of youth and happiness: their prime. And then, of course, there are those in between—the ambivalent few—caught somewhere amid the angst-driven “I hate everyone” folk and the sperry-sporting “don’t make me leave the bubble” type. This happy medium—this middle ground of sorts—is where I fit in: sad yet ecstatic, terrified yet eager, completely and utterly clueless.
So when asked my favorite memory, my mind immediately jumped from Scotland to Caribou to my job— all solid options, all worth a paragraph or two. My mind even grazed over the ever-easy, ever-obnoxious route: the “I can’t choose a favorite memory because they’re all my favorite!” option. But when I actually started thinking, I realized that each of these experiences—though certainly unique in their own right—would be somehow lacking, somehow incomplete without the people involved. And I know you’re probably gagging as you read this, judging me beyond measure for my oh-so-clichÃ©, oh-so-canned response. But bear with me, and take Caribou as an example:
“The Bou” without Barista Bernard and his notorious facial hair, without Barista Mike (and his notorious biceps <3), without friends with whom to do (or not do) work, was just another coffee shop—just another dimly-lit, overpriced, teen-infested venue. While yes, I’ll remember it for the drinks, for the “hip ‘n’ kewl” music, and for the INSANELY cold toilet seats, these memories will fizzle and fade in a matter of weeks, months, years, centuries, etc. But the metaphysical Caribou—that intrinsic, intangible feeling of community it inspired—will linger in my mind like no other: I will remember it for the people.
And so as we seniors graduate, many of us are beyond tempted to peace out and never look back. But even as our grad caps descend from their quintessential flight, even as we depart from Vet’s with diplomas in hand, we must savor, we must remember one another: the brief but nevertheless important parts we played.
When originally being asked to write for the prompt “What is one of your favorite or most unique high school experiences/memories, and why is it so special to you?” , I had no idea what to write about. And to be honest, I still really don’t know what to write about.
I could write about things that are super clichÃ© like “how special it was when I made varsity” or that “my senior prom was the best time of my life, period, hands down.” – but I don’t want to, and you’re not going to make me.
Looking back over the last four years, yes I have changed a lot. So I think that every memory I have made is special to who I am today. I know that is also super clichÃ© and cheesy but don’t judge me because this reflection is bound to have a little cheese ball in it. Over this milestone in my life, I just can’t pick out one experience/memory. I will remember every friend I made and every little accomplishment that made me happy.
That could be just listening to gangster rap music with my friends with the sun roof down in my swag of a car (1997 Honda Accord), or getting the A on a test that I really didn’t study for. And since I am a human, I also do make mistakes. Some might say I make more than the average person, but even though these failures/mistakes seem awful at the time, I pushed through them and they truly made me a stronger person (once again cheesy).
If I had to give advice to anyone in high school I would say make the most of it. Heck I am almost graduating and going to college. Take risks, and don’t let the haters hate. Love you all, and keep it real.
One of my favorite memories from high school was during the spring of my freshman year when I went pond skimming at Mad River Mountain. It was an impulse decision where I signed up last-minute, soon finding myself at the top of the mountain looking down at a 100ft long pool of water. The gate attendant asked for my name, and I could barely squeak out my first name before I realized how tense I was about going down that mountain.
I looked down at my snowboard, and was told to go right ahead. I quickly launched myself out of the gates before thinking twice. I could feel my heart beat faster and faster as I gained speed and approached the pond. Before I knew it I was gliding through the water as if I was on a wakeboard, was striving for the last couple of feet, and ended up reaching the snow at the end of the pond. I threw up my arms in excitement and ran right back up to the ski lift to give it another try.
Although I wasn’t as nervous the second time, I didn’t reach the end due to lack of speed, and sunk right down to my waist in freezing water. This experience taught me that in most cases, you need to push yourself out of your comfort zone in order to gain new awesome experiences and find what you love.
Sometimes,friendship is as simple as passing on a peanut butter sandwich. Most days last winter, Emma Tsao would pass her wheat-bread and jiff spread lunch on to Sam Gauer. We, Sam and I, friends through cross country, ran together after school. Those runs were beautiful — I couldn’t tell you how many times we got lost on the winding streets of South UA. I swear there’s something about running, feet pounding out on the pavement, which makes conversation flow easier and longer. We would just talk and run and then run some more.
We would always save those sandwiches. And then when we came back from a long run with our empty bellies and aching legs, that sandwich was waiting. Without question, it was torn exactly in half. We’d sit on the chilly concrete steps outside the band room and eat our halves, which had a way of tasting a little better than a whole.
My favorite high school memories are those things which have been shared over the course of friendships. A peanut butter sandwich, divided between the two of us. The AP test care packages which I made for other friends. And the surprise birthday presents or get-well cards which have been dropped at my doorstep – anonymous cupcake deliveries. Sometimes it was just sharing a moment in time, like when you just happen to be with another Aerosmith fan when Rag Doll comes on the radio. You can both totally jam out.
It’s an accumulation of these little moments which made high school truly incredible. I’m glad to have had the opportunity to share these past few years with all of you.
When I first arrived at Upper Arlington High School, I had no idea what to do. Everyone already looked up to me, I already knew everything, and I have always been ruggedly handsome. I thought that there was nothing else to worry about. But one of the two things I have learned from high school is that I can always get more disciples, become even smarter, and despite all logic, look even better. These things are effortless for me.
But the other thing I learned is pity. I cannot tell a lie; before UAHS, I never cared enough about the feelings of others. In the spirit of trying new things, I decided to start looking into the eyes of the inferior, and there were many more scroungers around me than I had ever encountered before. Peering only briefly into their sad souls stirred something in me that I had never felt before: mercy and compassion. It was a shocking and humbling experience.
The more I observed the weak people around me, the more it all made sense to me: I had always wondered why lesser folks existed, but after only a few days in the high school, I finally understood that they were here to give me some crucial perspective in life. All of the simpletons bumbling in my shadow have allowed me to better appreciate my position as a leader and modern Renaissance man.
I am grateful for their presence because without it, I could never have known how lucky I am (although my status is mostly because of skill). For four years, the sorry, inadequate people churning about in the hallways have served as reminders of my prestige and bastions of my sympathetic nature. For this, I am eternally grateful. I am so blessed. Thank you, Bears.